


Clockwork Heart (A Story for Sinnett)

by AuthorLoremIpsum



Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)
Genre: Amputation, Heartbreak, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Unrequited Love, one sided crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 03:36:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12268074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorLoremIpsum/pseuds/AuthorLoremIpsum
Summary: Sinnett’s been through a lot, first the loss of his hand, then gaining a new family in the Society of Arcane Sciences. And through all of it, a crush for the one person he could never hope to get began to bloom in his heart. If only he’d realized early on that it would only lead to heartbreak.A series of ficlets stitched into one semi-cohesive story.





	1. Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before he came to the Society, something terrible happened to Sinnett.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the third ficlet I wrote about Sinnett, believe it or not. TW for serious injury, lots of fire, and general trauma.

It’s hard to describe phantom pain to someone who’d never experienced it. For all intents and purposes, it’s as if the limb remains, as if it still exists and can feel the air on its skin. The logical mind protests, insisting desperately that the limb is in fact gone, trying to convince the rest of the body that it’s  _ still  _ gone. Doesn’t make it hurt any less, of course, trying to convince oneself that the burning pain doesn’t exist because it couldn’t.

The conscious mind could argue all day, and the subconscious would ignore.

It typically started in his hand, Sinnett found, like a small ache or a paper cut, which didn’t make much sense because that hand in particular was made of metal panels and ticking clockwork. The feeling would be a little confusing, and he’d ignore it, continuing to work as it slowly spread from the palm into the fingers, growing in intensity by the second. It would become hard to move after too long, as if something had gummed up the clockwork when in truth nothing was preventing it from moving.

Still, he’d try to keep working, ignore it while the tremor in his right hand would begin to act up too. The ache would continue to spread, growing in ferocity and heat, going from putting one’s hand on a hot sidewalk to the mouth of a fireplace, and it still grew. It’d grow and spread up his forearm, which too would become gummed up with the fictional stopping force. It would impossibly hard to work like this, neither grip functioning well enough to hold a pencil or tools, until Sinnett would be forced to abandon the lab and retreat to his room.

Once locked behind the door, he’d disengage the clockwork and pull what was left of his arm out from the clockwork hand. Still the ache would remain, extending from the stump as he hid it under his sleeve and waited for the pain to pass. It was normal, and he’d almost become used to it after almost a year, but there were some days that were worse than other.

And more often than not, it was the worst because someone had done something, whether they realized it or not, particularly Luckett.

As often as the two worked together and as good friends as they were, Luckett somehow consistently managed to forget Sinnett had an issue with large explosions, particularly if he were close to them. Sudden blasts would spook him and it’d be alright, and if he had a warning, he’d be fine. But if some large fire flared up in front of him with a concussive blast, well, it’d be hard to snap him out of the resulting daze.

Though, it wasn’t even an explosion that dazed him once, it was something far simpler.

Something someone had said in passing conversation, something about Luckett and the chemistry lab, “Everything will go up in smoke!” and Sinnett stopped walking.

The words echoed in his ears, tugging him back into memory, quieting the noise of the waking world. The ache began again in his false hand, the ticking of the clockwork mechanisms within ringing with the words in the pyrologist’s mind. “Go up in smoke. Up in smoke.”

That’s what his landlady had said, wasn’t it? She’d bloody smiled when she said it, laughed even, unaware that she’d be going up with it. God she hadn’t even known he was a mad, no, rogue scientist, she’d just thought he had a lot of candles and often used the fireplace, her warning had been after she spotted a burned spot on the floor.

Such a kind woman, she’d fed a stray cat and brought him tea from time to time, thought his candlemaking was absolutely delightful and he’d  _ killed her.  _

He’d brought the house down on top of them both.

She’d brought him tea that night, noticing him staying up late, and struck up conversation concerning the burn.

“Dropped a match,” he’d lied, holding up his right hand to display how it shook. “It’s bad tonight.”

“You going to be alright Mister Sinnett?” she asked politely, taking his hand and feeling the tremor herself. “You try lighting more matches like this, the floor won’t be the only thing with scorch marks!” She laughed at this, patting his hand in a motherly manner, and he’d laughed as well.

“I do intend to be careful Mrs-” his words became fuzzy, had he forgotten her name? No, no he couldn’t have! He had to remember her, no one else would, her name was- “Mrs. Stacy, and I won’t be up for much later. Just one last thing to finish tonight.”

“That’s good at least. And, say, would you do me a favor and fix that squeaky window tomorrow?” she asked, frowning hopefully. Sinnett grinned and cracked his knuckles, flourishing his hands a little, “I’ll take a look at it, but I’m no carpenter.”

“I don’t need a carpenter, just another set of hands,” Mrs. Stacy said chipperly. She clapped her hands, “Anyhoo, keep it down will you? I’m turning in.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And don’t light any more candles!” she chortled, turning and walking to the door, “With your hand shaking like that, the whole house will go up in smoke!” 

“Goodnight Mrs. Stacy,” Sinnett called to her, rolling his eyes.

As soon as the door was shut, he turned back to his desk and shoved aside the stack of books he’d placed there to hide the majority of the metal contraption that took up the deskspace. It had a handle, a tank, a nozzle, and a box on the end of it. The box, with one side made of glass, was meant to observe what went on within the small copper chamber. He slid open the glass window and gently measured out some ash, placing it within the chamber and closing it. 

With a hand held pump, he began to turn the small box into a vacuum, successfully coating the interior with the fine white ash. When satisfied with the emptiness of the box, Sinnett slid on his goggles, followed by his protective gloves, and took one end of his contraption, turning a valve just above the tank.

The tank was full of painfully siphoned phlogiston, and when combined with the ash in the small vacuum box, it would return the ash to whatever it had been before it was burned. Ribbon, in this case. 

Small flames began to flicker upon the ash and he moved over, leaning in close to peer inside the chamber, mumbling under his breath and praying it worked. As Sinnett watched with bated breath, bits of the ash began to turn the blue that it had been before he’d burned it, turning back into a ribbon! He gasped in awe and threw his hands in the air with a shout of joy, it was working!

Slowly of course, but it was working!

Until, it slowed to a stop, leaving small scraps of blue in the ash, nothing concrete. Sinnett frowned and turned the valve, allowing more phlogiston to escape into the chamber, and still nothing. He opened it all the way, emptying the tank on that end and moving again to peer into the chamber. Still no reaction!

But, was something happening to the single glass side? Did his eyes deceive him or was it bulging? 

He shifted to the side and picked up a metal mixing rod, reaching out to poke the almost glass bubble with a curious frown. The glass stuck to the rod, as if it were molten, and barely a second passed for him to consider it when it burst.

Sinnett scrambled back as molten glass shot out, landing and clattering on the floor with a tinkling sound, watching with horror as the dangerous chemical he so painstakingly worked to collect plumed into the room and ignited. Every flammable surface, the floor, the roof his bedsheets igniting in a second.

Panic struck his heart and he ran for the bed, grabbing a blanket and desperately beginning to beat at the flames, but he could not smother it. Much like the Greek Fire of legend, the blaze would not die. He saw fire creeping up his notes and shouted, running to snatch his notebook from the flames before it could be consumed. He had to tell Mrs. Stacy to leave, before the fire reached her and-

The floor creaked ominously as the fire continued to grow around him, successfully blocking off the door and window as it spread. Sinnett backed away, searching frantically for a way out, searching for some way to get through the fire but, he was trapped.

It shouldn’t have been burning this fierce, but he was certain the Phlogiston was working as an accelerant, fueling the fire as more and more of it was freed, the temperature of the room continuing to climb. It became hard to breathe, what air there was bore heavy with smoke, Sinnett couldn’t stop coughing as his head began to spin from lack of clean air.

Another groan, from the ceiling above as fire licked at it hungrily, blackening the wood until-  _ CRACK! _

Sinnett barely had a chance to look up before the beam, already weak and creaky from years and years of weight on the floor above, began to buckle as embers burned upon it. He screamed as it cracked in half, splintering and falling, crashing through the floor and causing the fire to flare. 

The floor buckled and began to follow it down to the floor below. Sinnet slipped as the floor pitched and the house creaked, unnatural fire spreading quickly to every flammable surface and then some. The pyrologist fell, tumbling forward, clutching his notes to his chest with his right hand, pinning them safely to shirt as he crashed through onto the bottom floor, falling flat on his back. 

His head spun upon landing and he coughed hard, putting a hand over his mouth before laying there, trying to catch his breath. He held his book to his chest and allowed his free arm to lay out to the side. He watched the fire flicker overhead, only then realizing that Mrs. Stacy was probably hurt in the collapse.

He started to stand only to freeze, watching the floor overhead buckle in the middle and come crashing down, down, down.

On top of him.

And then darkness.

~

Sinnett woke in agony, lungs on fire, body freezing, pain racing up to his left shoulder with only the slightest of movements. Something was wrapped around his eyes, preventing them from opening, but of all the pain in his body, his eyes did not hurt! But his throat did, when he tried to speak it came out raspy and painful. 

And then, water, a splash on his face that made him splutter, followed by a short apology. The person helped him into a sitting position, the agony in his arm not lessening from the movement. “They told me to make you drink.” He nodded obediently and drank this time when he felt the cup in his mouth.

What had happened? Were his notes alright? Mrs. Stacy, was she alive? Please God let her have made it out okay. 

His throat no longer burning, he tried to speak. “My eyes, they don’t, they’re okay.”

“Oh! They just dropped you in here with them on,” a startled voice said, and shaking hands untied the bandage. Sinnett was met with darkness, shadow, a poorly lit room that was scantily furnished and absolutely filthy. His helper, a kid in a worn outfit, smirked a little. “You’re okay then?”

“My arm, bloody hurts,” he answered raspily, looking around the room, heart sinking at the sight of the jail cell door locking them in. “Oh god where are we?”

“Some police station,” the kid said, pouting a little. “Harrington Lane I think, it’s the dead middle of night an’ they just dragged you in. All wrapped up, half burned and missin’ a hand.” Sinnett froze, slowly turning to look at the kid, tears pricking at his eyes from the pain in his arm as its source became obvious, despite how he would swear to the high heavens he could still feel his hand. “What?”

“You dense? You’ve only got half your left arm!” the kid said, pointing. 

Sinnett couldn’t bring himself to look, instead hiding his eyes with his good hand, covered with soot, feeling tears slip out. The kid sounded insulted, “You’re so upset about your hand, you should be scared of the fact they’re ready to lock you up for the rest of your life for arson! They found a bunch of weird machines in the house you burned down, real mad scientist kind of stuff, and considering your goggles and gear-”

“Shut up,” Sinnett snapped, moving his hand from his eyes and glaring at the delinquent, unabashedly crying at this point. The kid looked startled, raising their hands in defense and backing up, “Wow so-rry. You’re a sensitive one.”

“I lost my arm you brat!” Sinnett shouted, feeling his voice tear at his throat as sadness and rage bubbled out all in one shout. He scrubbed at his face, mumbling weak apologies as he tried desperately to pull himself together, but it wasn’t working. 

He’d ruined everything hadn’t he? And he’d paid for it in blood and bone for his unholy sciences. Just another mad scientist, put to death before they could kill anyone else after destroying home and hearth with their foolish dreams and ideals. No longer did he even have both hands with which he could wipe his tears with, what was left hurt so badly he could not bear to move it from where it lay at his side.

And all of it was because he’d missed something.

Some small mistake that’d cost his freedom, his hand, and likely the life of Mrs. Stacy, why hadn’t he been more careful damnit!? 

Sinnett cried long into the night, horribly annoying his cellmate who’d retreated to the opposite corner to pick at the bricks on the wall. Once, a man in dignified clothes entered the cell to change the bandages on Sinnett’s stump, and the rogue scientist couldn’t even bear to watch, eyes squeezed shut as every touch sent bolts of agony into his shoulder. But, the fresh gauze felt better, so he thanked the doctor, despite how his voice caught.

The stranger just gave him a sympathetic look, eyes full of pity. Silently he was saying: “Oh you poor soul, you sought that fountain of youth and found a bottomless pit from which your suffering has been drawn. If only you had turned back like the rest of us.”

Sinnett looked away from those eyes, arm and, half arm, folded protectively over his chest as the doctor left. The weight of sorrow in there was heavy, like solid metal, molten and dripping into his stomach were it set flames of fear ablaze, bringing new tears every few minutes that Sinnet tried desperately to wipe away.

He was probably going to die from infection, his amputated stump and squalor conditions in the cell providing a perfect breeding ground for any number of festering bacteria. And if he didn’t die, he would go to prison, where he would die for setting a house on fire and further endangering the populace with mad science. And if he didn’t go to prison they’d lock him up in an asylum where he’d rot in a padded cell and lose his mind alongside the truly insane until he was the perfect Mad Scientist.

But it wasn’t mad! He’d learned from this! Phlogisten needed some mix of air to function, for without it it just, stopped working! Like fire, when contained, it couldn’t react, something to note but it would never even matter now because he was going to prison!

Or worst of all, he would be hanged.

The public would want him dead, institutionalized, kept as far away from their realm of understanding as possible so he didn’t endanger them like the legendary Frankenstein and Doctor Moreau. God if only he’d been a little more careful!

If only he’d been more careful.

After the tears had run dry, after the heavy feeling and flames it brought had been numbed, time passed slowly. Sinnett just sat there, lost in thought, was it even thought? He felt empty, waiting, just waiting for the next thing to happen so he wouldn’t have to be afraid of so uncertain a future.

This numbness lasted and eventually changed into sleep, allowing Siinnet to drift off into a restless sleep in the cold, nightmares of fire and shattering bones plaguing his psyche as he tried to rest. It was late morning when he finally woke, finding the cell empty, but the door being opened.

Two men stood there, one with a more portly silhouette and a voice that suggested he had a moustache. “Frankly doctor, this man is an arsonist, plain and simple, he must be institutionalized to protect the populace.”

“And I assure you, no arsonist clever enough to build a er, bomb, like that and protect their notes the way he did wouldn’t have gotten out before the building burned. Not to mention, he’s missing an arm and needs proper medical attention,” said another voice, cool, collected, familiar somehow.

“The building was burned to ashes faster than my men could stop it, a woman was burned to death and-” Sinnett choked down a sob and began to cry once more, God he had killed Mrs. Stacy! It was his fault she was dead because he hadn’t been bloody careful enough!

There was another brief exchange and footsteps, someone sat near Sinnett on the metal cot he sat upon, head in his hand, sobbing. Something touched his good shoulder but he didn’t look up.

“That woman, you knew here didn’t you?” said that voice, the one that’d defended him. Sinnett scrubbed his eyes and forced himself to look up, and his heart stopped.

He was almost certain the man sitting before him was an angel, bright brown eyes that were looking at him softly with worry, fine and sharp features, brown hair that fell over one eye in an array of curls and locks like something an artist would paint. He wore a finely made tophat, his cloak looked expensive, what was he doing here of all places? The officer had called him a doctor, why was he here?

“You knew the woman who died, what was her name?” he asked again, the gloved hand on Sinnett’s good shoulder squeezing gently. Sinnett nodded, utterly stunned, his mind slowly coming back to him. 

And then all at once- “I didn’t want to hurt her! I never meant to hurt anyone! It was an accident a stupid mistake and I’ve already paid for it! Please I don’t, I don’t belong in, I don’t want to die!” Tears bubbled from his eyes and dripped down his cheeks as he begged this cloaked stranger to help him. “Please, it was an accident, I didn’t want anyone to die because of my stupid science.” 

He dropped his head and choked down a sob, hand covering his mouth.

The stranger stared and sighed, “So those notes they found you with, they were yours?” He nodded weakly, “They should’ve burned, no one can know what I found, it’s, God it’s so dangerous.”

He heard the sound of flipping pages and looked up, sucking in a breath as the stranger flicked through Sinnett’s leather journal, only slightly singed. “No…”

“It’s quite brilliant, really,” this stranger said, examining some of the sketches. He turned the book to Sinnett, “Was this device what started the fire?” 

A weak nod. “I didn’t, I didn’t realize the chamber was over pressured, or that the glass couldn’t, handle the heat,” he mumbled, sitting up normally on the cot, rubbing his aching bicep, head bowed.

“I think the design is brilliant!” the stranger said with a warm, charming smile. Sinnett felt his tired heart skip a beat, and he sat up a little straighter. “Re, really?”

“Indeed! I think your only problem was that you didn’t have a properly insulated chamber to examine the reaction,” he continued, examining the notebook. “Quite a simple fix really, we’ll have more than enough materials to fix it once we get you out of here.”

“Out of here?”

“Of course! Can’t have a brilliant mind like yours rotting in a jail cell,” he said with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. Sinnett felt himself smiling, only for it to be squashed by the pain in his arm. “But, I killed a woman, burned a house down, wouldn’t it be safer if I were behind bars?”

“That is what I was saying to the dear doctor,” the officer said, hands folded and mouth scowling beneath his bushy moustache. The doctor stood, “Captain Brokenshire I assure you, whatever machines this gentleman constructs will be in a safe environment, there will not be another fire.”

“And if there is?”

“He will answer to me, sir.” The stranger undid the clasps of his cloak and draped it protectively around Sinnett’s singed shoulders before striding up to the captain. Sinnett pulled the warm cloak closer, the warmth bringing him comfort and the smell of peppermint. The doctor was tall and thin, his gloved hands clasped in front of him, every detail of his outfit precise and neat. “You have my word, he will not cause another fire.”

“If he does start one, I’ll have him incarcerated, as he should be,” Brokenshire said sharply, turning on his heel and walking off. The doctor nodded slowly and turned to face Sinnett, “Sorry about that, I’ve been fighting tooth and claw all morning to get you out of here.”

“Am I, really worth that much?” he asked weakly, breaking into sudden coughs. The doctor gasped and moved closer, putting a hand on his back, “You must’ve inhaled a lot of smoke. Brokenshire said they had to cut you out of the debris, but I’m sure you knew that.”

“I, had guessed,” Sinnett coughed, allowing this stranger to help him stand on shaking legs. Sinnett drew himself to his full height, holding his injured arm against his chest, shoulders hunched in pain. He was nearly the same height as this stranger, which seemed to surprise him. 

The pyrologist cleared his throat, “Before, before I thank you for everything, can I know your name?”

The smile that the doctor gave him made Sinnett’s heart skip again, “My name is Doctor Henry Jekyll, at your service mister-”

“Sinnett, Anthony Sinnett,” he answered, smiling a tiny bit. He started to reach to shake, only to switch hands with an awkward smile. Jekyll sighed, “Well, once we get to the Society we’ll work on patching you up and then see if a few friends of mine can’t do something about that hand of yours, or lack thereof.”

He reached out, gently pushing aside the cloak to peer at the bloodied bandages, frowning a little.

And then suddenly, they weren’t in the cell, they were in the Society, at the bottom of a staircase, Jekyll holding his shoulders, eyes wide with fear. He was saying something, his name.

“Sinnett? Anthony? Can you hear me?” he asked in a soft, worried voice. Sinnett blinked, his mind returning to the present. “I, what happened? What’s going on?” 

A sigh from nearby, and a look revealed Dr. Maijabi standing nearby. He nodded to the pyrologist, “Saw you take a fall down the staircase, looked like you were off in your own head. Helped you onto your feet, made sure you weren’t goin’ anywhere, then went to get the  _ other  _ doctor.”

“I, I’m fine,” Sinnett said slowly, realizing there was an ache in his knees, probably from his fall. The phantom ache persisted in his hand, but not as horrible as before, perhaps it was because of the very real and very warm touches on his shoulders. 

Jekyll looked relieved to see Sinnett back in the waking world, but he did not smile. “Were you, there? In the past?”

The pyrologist nodded, a bit out of breath all of a sudden, “I, I don’t mean to be a bother. I’m sorry sir.”

“What for? Your trauma is nothing to be sorry for.” Jekyll helped him to stand and then smiled, “Perhaps you should turn in for the afternoon, gather your thoughts before going back to working with fire yes?” A warm sort of feeling bubbled up in Sinnett’s chest as he nodded, not wanting Jekyll to take the hand on his shoulder.

But take he did, and with a relieved nod he turned and walked off to, somewhere. Sinnett couldn’t help but smile, a bit of a pink tint in his cheeks. As much as the past haunted him, reality, the present was pretty sweet, literally and figuratively.


	2. The Greatest Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sinnett's prosthesis was wood originally, the Society made him a new one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was most recently written when all of these were still disconnected. I never actually published anywhere because it was standalone and seemed kind of boring, but convinient for closing the gap between Burn and the next chap.

There were jingle bells ringing in the Society of Arcane sciences and the smell of cinnamon and woodsmoke. Sprigs of mistletoe hung in common doorways and from lights, poorly made wreaths hung on bedroom doors, and a large tree stood proudly in the empty lobby where cases and shelves would one day occupy. Only a fraction of the Lodgers lived in the Society at this point, and winter had come with a hearty, but frigid wind. 

It seemed to cut through the building into the rooms where fires were lit to help their occupants warm. Unfortunately for Sinnett, he couldn’t bring himself to light a fire and sat swaddled in blankets atop his bed, shivering. He could barely bring himself to light the candles in his room for light, the memories of the fire still far too fresh in his mind to light a fire for warmth.

And be with it alone.

He spent a lot of time in the rooms of the others, not wanting to be alone but also not wanting to freeze, at least with someone else he was less likely to set something on fire. 

Maybe that’s how they noticed he didn’t like his new hand. Every chance he got, he loosened the leather straps and took off the clunky wooden prosthesis, sitting it aside and rubbing the scarred spot with his sleeve. It itched so often and the straps chafed his elbow and upper arm, leaving sore red splotches that he often had to cover with gauze. When the others asked him about it, he explained he was simply grateful to have something to serve as a hand at this point.

Truth was, he felt like he didn’t deserve anything better after setting his house on fire and killing his landlady. 

Pennebrygg was the first to find that answer unsatisfactory.

He was an automaton engineer, working with robots and human-shaped machines was his job, his passion, his life’s goal, helping Sinnett would be a step closer in that direction. But he only could make the mechanics, especially if they were large, nowhere near small or fine enough for a human sized hand. What was he going to do?

Perhaps, perhaps that new girl, Flowers, could help him. Hadn’t Jekyll said she made clockwork insects?

And with Christmas in a week, if his plan were to work, he’d have to act fast. 

He went to Flowers after dinner on the night of the eighteenth, and she seemed shocked at his plan. Not that she couldn’t make the clockwork function the way Pennebrygg had in mind, that would be the easy part actually. She had the plans for a spider that could carry a number of things, making a human hand would be easy. But she had absolutely no idea how they’d make it function like a hand  _ attached  _ to Sinnett’s body!

“There’s simply no way to connect the human mind with a machine!” she explained in a soft voice, a warm looking shawl drawn over her shoulders, hair pulled back in a small bun. They stood in the engineering lab, one of the warmer places to be because of the small forge chugging away against one wall.

Pennebrygg couldn’t help but frown at Flower’s comment, his brows furrowing in frustration as he crossed his arms to think. He wore a scarf and a warm coat as opposed to his usual labcoat, and a pair of glasses as opposed to his odd eye-device. “We need someone who understands the human body, because while I understand motor functions I don’t know where the hell to start with the mind!”

“Perhaps, perhaps Doctor Jekyll would know!” Flowers said, clasping her hands excitedly. “I have heard him talk quite a lot about the human mind! Perhaps he will know how to do something.”

“And I could speak with Maijabi, see if there’s some way to connect with the soul as well,” Pennebrygg said, eyes sparkling. The two of them shook hands, determined, “Keep thinking of plans, we’ll draw them up after we know what we’re doing!”

“Absolutely!” Flowers chirped, grinning. 

They split, each going to their mission objective and asking a number of questions. Jekyll, who had been preoccupied with paperwork of some sort, seemed startled and intrigued when Flowers told him the secret plan and asked for his help. He gladly agreed to help, in fact he seemed thrilled to be of assistance. Even when Pennebrygg’s effort came back empty, Jekyll had a solution.

It did, however, involve surgery on what was left of Sinnett’s forearm to connect the tendons to some sort of mechanism that would, in turn, control the armature. The mechanism itself would be fairly simplistic, how it connected to the hand would be different, but nothing more complicated than anything Pennebrygg and Flowers had designed before. And with Doctor Jekyll’s anatomical notes, they managed to draft up a plan by that night.

The next day, they began to try and figure out a way that they might get Sinnett’s arm size. Maijabi, who stopped by to see how they were doing now that he knew the plan, had a few suggestions, but all of them were odd. What’s more, he remarked that Sinnett’s hand could be seen in his mirror that showed hidden things.

“Does that mean it’s still there?” asked Flowers, suddenly worried they would be hurting him greatly by installing a permanent prosthesis. Maijabi shook his head, “No, simply means it feels like it is, phantom pains.”

“How awful!”

He gestured as if to dismiss her worry, “Trauma leaves us all with scars, and his are merely a little phantasmal, nothing to worry yourself over Flowers. Don’t worry yourself over his psyche, and convince him to light a fire before worrying about his phantom pains, he’ll freeze himself like this.”

Elsewhere, Pennebrygg worked tirelessly shaping gears, clockwork, and metal panels according to Flowers’ plan, incomplete without proper measurements. She kept trying to think of a way to find out the size without giving them away, and eventually just asked Sinnett to measure his hand, saying she wanted it for a Christmas gift. His response was to tell her not to bother because: “I’ve only got one hand for gloving, I’m not worth your money.”

The sentiment broke her heart, as if his disability made him worth nothing, but now she had the measurements and complete the plan. Hopefully the gift could lift not only his spirits, but his self worth.

She and Pennebrygg worked harder than they ever had before, and with Doctor Jekyll’s consulting, they had two devices that slowly began to take shape. As they worked, word began to spread to the other Lodgers, of Sinnett’s sorrow, of their project for Christmas, and a new sort of spirit took the Society. 

Suddenly, everyone was planning gifts for someone else, bringing drinks and new lights for the others hard at work. As the days counted down to Christmas itself, the number of gifts beneath the tree began to grow in number. Most of them were small, wrapped in canvas and tied with string, but there was a sort of love in them that wasn’t easy to describe. 

The decorations began to multiply as well, small baubles, strings of cheap, handpainted beads, a wire angel made from scrap metal, and small crystals wrapped in colorful twine served to decorate the massive tree. It twinkled in the morning light now, and the lobby smelled fresh and piney in the cool air. 

On Christmas eve, someone brought out a scratchy sounding gramophone and a few bottles of quality wine and whiskey to share. Rachel brought sweets she’d been preparing and joined the Lodgers, Doctor Jekyll and Lanyon for a Christmas Eve celebration. Sinnett was the last to join them, struggling to carry a package with his one and a half arms, having ditched the wooden hand once again.

He set the package on the ground and opened it, revealing a large number of small white candles on little wire hangers to further decorate the tree. With a small chorus of cheers, they helped him hang the candles and light them, one at a time, until the tree was glowing softly. 

“I wish I had more to offer, but this was all I could manage,” he said with a sad smile, massaging his bandaged arm gently. The cold didn’t help the ache.

The leak in the roof continued to drip in a steady rhythm, the gramophone sang softly and stories were exchanged alongside thanks and dreams of the future. Flowers and Pennebrygg shared eager and smug smiles every time they heard a lament about Sinnett’s hand. The pyrologist again and again brushed off his friend’s concerned, insisting he was fine, that he didn’t need their worry. If only he knew!

As the evening wore on and the candles began to burn low, everyone turned in for the night, but the clockwork craftswoman and the engineer snuck off to Pennebrygg’s lab at the last minute and made sure to wrap Sinnett’s gift. The last of the soldering had finally cooled, and manually testing the mechanisms showed everything to be in working order, the hand able to open and close smoothly, the wrist twisting and turning like an ordinary hand. Flowers could hardly contain her excitement, and though she worried about how they would perform the surgery without hurting him, she was comforted that certainly Sinnett would be happy about the possibility of having a hand again!

Pennebrygg seemed to notice her worry and put a hand on her shoulder, comforting. They did the best they could in so little time, they would have time to perfect it while Sinnett made his decision and Jekyll determined how to perform the surgery, but for now it’d be enough.

“Best to get some sleep now, we’ve been up all day and most of last night.”

“You’re right, I’m just all abuzz about it. Goodnight Pennebrygg.”

“Goodnight Ms. Flowers, thank you for your help.”

“Of course, any time.”

Morning came slow and cold, but there was an undeniable happiness to the air as everyone gathered downstairs with that sort of childish glee. No new presents had been brought by Santa Claus, but that didn’t make it any less exciting the ones that were there. Gifts from friends to friends, a celebration between the Lodgers of making it to another Christmas. (Neither doctor could come, they were off having their own Christmas mornings with family and friends, the Lodgers only had each other)

Pennebrygg practically sprinted to his lab to grab Sinnett’s gift, the stairs creaking and pounding under foot, unashamedly drawing all eyes to him as he ran to join them all at the base of their messy tree. He paused only to catch his breath before shoving the heavy box into Sinnett’s hand, causing him to fall back onto a couch they’d dragged out. Everyone watched eagerly as he confusedly opened the box and froze.

He reached in and pulled a paper from the box, eyes flicking from it to the admittedly beautiful clockwork hand that lay within the box. The hand was simple, only bearing three fingers, but it looked whole and solid. As he read the letter, Pennebrygg and Flowers shared eager looks, waiting for some reaction.

To their surprise, Sinnett started crying, a huge smile pulling itself onto his face. “I don’t, I can’t believe you did this! I don’t deserve something as beautiful as-”

“Now that’s rubbish!” Bird said in a warm voice, walking over to put a hand on Sinnett’s shoulder. “It’s not that you deserve it, you need it!”

“Aye, these two’ve been working day and night to create something to help you,” Luckett said, folding his arms with a smile, glancing at his friends. “They went around asking everyone for help on all manner of things. We, all kind of helped to make it, but it was mostly them.” He gestured at Pennebrygg and Flowers, the former dismissing the compliment and the latter blushing visibly, flattered.

Sinnett wiped his face in a vain attempt before standing. He set the box aside, left his blanket behind, and ran to hug the two as best he could, thanking them over and over and over, promising he’d do something to repay them. Pennebrygg laughed and tried to insist that wasn’t necessary but Flowers actually cut him off.

“Sinnett, the best thing you can do to repay us is use that damn hand to make something great,” she told him, taking his good hand in her own, both frigid from the cold inside the empty Society. “Can you do that? For us and for yourself?”

He sniffed and grinned, still leaking tears of joy, “I can damn well try!”


	3. Candlemaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a pass time, Sinnett's helps with his pyromania and makes gifts for friends, double points!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first ficlet I wrote for TGS that wasn’t part of an AU and kind of kicked off a whole bunch of writing on tumblr. At this point, I didn’t know who I was going to end up shipping with him, if anyone.

There was a beautiful gold colored candle sitting on the counter of the kitchen. A lacey green ribbon was tied around the base and small, beautiful pink flowers were carved into the wax. Rachel had just returned from the market after trudging through February snow with a basket of eggs and butter, only to stop in the doorway upon spying this candle. She slowly shut the door and set her basket aside, staring at it with a small frown.

She walked over and picked it up, feeling its weight and lifting the small wick with a curious frown. Turning it over, she found a note tucked in the bow of the ribbon. 

_ Dear Pidgely, _

__ _ Thank you for the muffins. _

__ _ -Sinnett _

Again, she turned the candle over, smiling a little. Had he bought it for her? How kind! 

She placed it on top of a cabinet and set about stripping out of her frosted winter clothes, making a mental note to thank the pyrologist later for his gift.

~

It was midnight, and Mrs. Cantilupe was finally turning in for the evening. She’d spent all afternoon and into the night dealing with a very small new creature, the pup of something monstrous and distinctly eldritch in nature, trying to tame it at least somewhat. It was dark in these halls, and Cantilupe found herself squinting through her glasses and the gloom, wishing she could turn up the lights a little.

When she came to her room, she bumped into something in front of the door. Kneeling down to search, she found a bundle of tall and thin candles tied with a light blue ribbon. A note was stuck to them, and in the brighter light of her room, she read the note.

_ Dear Cantilupe, _

__ _ Had a few extras, noticed you didn’t have many lights in your lab, thought you could use some. _

__ _ -Sinnett _

  1. _Sorry the note is burned_



Cantilupe couldn’t help but chuckle, pulling one of the thin candles from the bundle and setting it on a small, empty candle tray sitting on a chest of drawers. With the strike of a match, her room was lit.

~

Griffin woke with a start to a dark common room, the fire having long since burnt to ash. With a grumble he sat up, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses, fighting the urge to yawn as he searched the room for a clock. Then he realized that a small blue candle had been left burning for him, and at least half of it had melted away into a small puddle beneath it. For a long moment he stared at it, smiling a tiny bit before leaning down and blowing it out with a small puff. 

He took a pen knife and scraped away the melted wax, pressing it together into a small ball and plucking the candle from the table. He tried to be quiet as he gathered his papers and shuffled upstairs, passing a few doors belonging to his friends.

As he passed Sinnett’s room, Griffin leaned down and placed the extra wax in front of the door with a small note.

_ Thanks _

__ _ -Grif _

~

Ito wanted a candle that burned with colors, it’d be striped with different shades of grey and they promised that, as it burned, the flame would change.

Sinnett had made it yes, but Virginia had made it more interesting, giving him peculiar dusts and liquids to mix into the wax. He hadn’t used all of it of course, but the odd grey color that the candle became as a result of the chemicals was, unsettling. So, before he gave it to them for their birthday, he coated it in a lovely teal wax.

When he’d gone to give it to them over breakfast the next day they said: “You’re finished already?”

“Well, it only takes an afternoon to make these really, and I needed to wait for Flowers to recalibrate my hand after I uh, broke it a bit,” Sinnett said with a shrug and a smile, gesturing with his metal hand. “I had time, is what I’m trying to say, and I hope I did well.” He offered it to them and Ito took the large candle, turning it over.

“It’s, big.”

“Well, it might not do well for light, but I hope you like it anyway, happy birthday,” he said, shrugging and awkwardly rubbing his upper arm. Ito examined the candle, a smile tugging onto their face. They stood and pat his shoulder, “Thanks Anthony, it’s a lovely gift.”

He beamed as they strode off, running a hand through his wild hair, a blush of pride on his cheeks.

Then someone tapped his shoulder, making him jump a little.

“Sinnett, you make candles?” they asked with a tilted head, curious. He glanced at them, realising it was Mosley and not some ghost come to haunt him for accidentally setting those houses on fire, and relaxed. “I do, it’s er, a way to keep myself distracted.”

“You don’t seem like the type who needs distracting,” Mosley remarked, a smile in his voice. Sinnett laughed awkwardly, “Well ah, you’d be mighty surprised. Not everyone appreciates lighting matched on impulse and burning things spontaneously.”

“Pardon?”

“Well, Luckett may cause things to explode, things just, ignite when I’m around,” Sinnett explained with a nervous smile. “I um, I light things on fire, that’s what I’m trying to say.” 

Mosley snickered about something, “Well, best keep your hair short, wouldn’t want that catching on fire.”

“Yeah no kidding.” Sinnett exhaled sharply, remembering the time when a carelessly thrown match had ignited one of his shirts and set the cotton aflame. When people had come, smelling smoke and hearing noises of distress, he’d been shirtless and trying to stamp out not  _ only  _ the shirt he’d lit but the one he’d been wearing that’d unfortunately caught in the process. Now that had been awkward…

“Sinnett? Could you do it?”

“Do what?” he asked, blinking and snapping out of his unfocus. 

“I need some candles, very small ones that would fit into my lantern,” Mosley explained, holding up a round lantern the size of a football, containing a little tray within and a reflective lense. Sinnett leaned down and examined it, “I mean, I probably could, I probably have some already. But, we’ve all got work and I mean-”

“I completely understand, it’s your hobby and I don’t expect you to work yourself to the bone making everyone candles,” Mosley said warmly, smiling behind his mask. “But, if you have any small ones, I’d be ever so grateful.”

“I think I can give you a few small ones,” Sinnett said with a small grin, folding his arms. He motioned with a hand and the two walked upstairs to his room.

Pushing open the door released a very faint puff of smoke and perfume, like flowers, as the two walked in. Candles of all sizes and colors sat on different surfaces in the room, filling up the desk and sitting behind photo frames atop a singed chest of drawers. Mosley leaned in the door and peered around, not wanting to walk in much further as Sinnett began to check what he had.

It took only a moment for him to return with an armful of small candles, each barely larger than a bottle of ink. “D’you think these will work?” 

Mosley examined one of the candles and nodded, “Why, yes, I think these will do quite well. Do I owe you anything?”

Sinnett shook his head, “No no, it’s fine! This is my hobby, we both know my real passion is pyrology, this is just to keep my uh, pyromania in check. They’re free.”

~

It had been a bad evening.

First the tank on his thrower had sprung a leak, a leak that managed to soak his shirt and nearly set his entire desk on fire, and then after cleaning it up, he managed to drop something on the Thrower and shattered a small bottle of concentrated phlogiston, igniting the table anyway. And that hadn’t helped that he’d been itching to do some test burning anyway, the fire stunned him for long enough that he was probably going to have to replace the table.

And  _ all  _ of that made for approximately zero patience for candle making. 

So he took the large matchbox from the top of his drawers, striking a match and starting to light candle after candle around his room until the air smelled like perfumes of all kinds. The tremor in his right hand began to act up, making his grip unsteady and shaky as he tried to light one more candle, and the match dropped onto the floor. Frantically, he stomped it out before anything could catch. He pushed open the window to air out the smoke before sitting on the ground, staring at the candles as they flickered.

A few minutes passed and someone knocked on the door.

“Come in!”  Sinnett called, sounding a little bit dead inside.

To his surprise, Doctor Jekyll opened the door and peered in. Sinnett sat up a little, “I uh, I can explain!”

Jekyll paused, and then looked concerned, “Did something happen?”

“I, don’t know,  _ did _ something happen?” he countered, looking a bit like a startled cat.

“No no, merely, the smoke coming from your bedroom was doing everyone a concern,” Jekyll answered with a charming smile and a chuckle. Sinnett glanced up at the open window and offered a pathetic shrug, “Uh, sorry? Should, should I stop? Should I put them out?”

“Stop what?”

“The candles?”

Jekyll frowned in surprise, “Oh, no! There’s nothing wrong with them, they’re lovely and you’re very good at making them.” He leaned in the doorframe casually, “If you don’t mind me asking, have you ever considered selling them?”

“Not really,” Sinnett admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and hair in thought. “I mean, I don’t make them often enough for that to really  _ work  _ so, I just don’t know.” He folded his arms and hunched his shoulders, “I feel like people are paying more attention to my candles than my actual work, and I get  _ why  _ but it’s, disheartening.” Why had he said that? Surely Henry didn’t want to hear his lamenting.

“Well, I know many of them are grateful for a little extra light,” Jekyll said with a gentle smile. “I’ll be in my office if you want to talk.”

Sinnett nodded and watched him close the door, before smiling a little bit, a fluttery feeling in his chest. He looked towards the closet, where he knew his crafting supplies were, a new idea occurring to him, and no desire to sleep on the horizon.

~

It was late evening when he finished, having long ago blown out most of his candles before they could melt away to nothing. The room smelled sweet, like peppermint, and so did the brick of homemade red wax that sat before him. It had been yellow maybe an hour ago, and the inside of this candle was a matching, lovely yellow color.

Now Sinnett sat, cross-legged on the floor, a knife in hand, carving small swirls into the base of the candle, just above a ribbon pressed into the base. Satisfied with the slightly shaky carving, Sinnett stood and dusted the red and yellow wax from his shirt and the candle.

Silently, he crept to the door and looked outside into the darkened and not entirely silent Society. Still moving as quietly as possible, he crept down the hall to the lobby. Overhead, the leviathan skeleton glowed softly, casting odd shadows as he tiptoed towards Jekyll’s office, knowing it was empty. Slowly, he pushed open the door and peered inside, freezing as he saw a shape sprawled on the desk with a bottle.

He pushed open the door a little more, “Doctor? Henry? You asleep in here?” The figure started and sat up, squinting at him, hair sticking out in every direction. “Oh, Hyde, it’s just you. What, what’re you doing in here with the lights off?”

“I  _ was  _ reading,” he said, sitting up, barely visible in the dark room. He reached out and turned up a lamp, illuminating things a bit better. “Y’know, I  _ would  _ have liked to go out but, not feeling the greatest. What do you want?”

Sinnett shrugged vaguely, holding up the candle. “I uh, couldn’t sleep, so I made something for Henry. I, thought he’d appreciate it.”

Hyde stood, slid over the top of the desk, and strode over to take the candle. He sniffed it and grinned, “Peppermint?”

“Seemed fitting,” the pyrologist said with a shrug. Another idea began to occur to him, but he pushed it out of the way, not having the most pleasant exchanges with the man before him. But it felt fitting, at least, that both halves of the curious pair got a candle, even if Hyde was a prick.

But Hyde smiled and shrugged, “I prefer your flamethrower to this candlemaking stuff, kind of girly if you ask me. Hey, keeps you from setting the Society on fire, so that makes it kind of cool. Bit like whittling, with wax.”

Sinnett found himself smiling a little, “Well uh, glad you like it. Do me a favor, don’t ruin it for Henry, okay?”

Hyde looked hurt, putting a hand to his chest and pouting. “I’m insulted! Look even  _ I  _ wouldn’t go so low as to destroy gifts between friends.” He winked at Sinnett and placed the candle on the desk, “Goodnight Mr. Sinnett, if you don’t mind, I’ve a bottle of whiskey to finish.”

He grinned a little and shrugged, “Sure, goodnight Hyde.”

~

By morning, there was a second, smaller candle on Jekyll’s desk. 

Green on the outside, white on the inside, with a wick that’d burn green.


	4. It's Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are strange, sometimes you can't quite describe them, other times it's all to easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written between chapters three and one when I was trying to figure out who the hell I wanted to ship Sinnett with, then I realized I didn’t really want a ship so much as Sinnett turning into a blushing teakettle.The original title of this chapter became the title for THIS whole fic.

Anthony Sinnett had a problem.

Every, single person at the Society of Arcane Sciences was attractive. Even the Lodgers who were ten, twenty years his senior, they all had a respectable and dignified sort of beauty to them. The closer they were to Sinnett’s age, the more of a problem it was though, because there was the opportunity for  _ chemistry  _ with them.

And that chemistry had a different meaning for each of them.

For example, Luckett was charming, eloquent, surprisingly elegant and dignified for a man on fire half of the time. Sinnett looked forward to the opportunities he had to work with Luckett, he could listen to the talk of homeopathy all day frankly. It was solely intellectual, Sinnett felt he was an equal with Luckett, and their time together was rewarding in terms of work. They got things finished, they built things, set things on fire, it was fun and bloody brilliant. 

On another hand, Ito was incredibly attractive. As shallow as it sounded though, that’s as far as it extended; Sinnett marveled at their aesthetic, their makeup and hair. Often he wanted to ask them about it, maybe get some tips, but how didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding romantic or uncouth. His attitude towards Ito was not romantic in the slightest, he considered them a good friend, and perhaps wanted to be closer friends.

There were others that had drawn his interest, Mosley whose hidden face and mysterious nature drew the imagination in curious directions, Rachel whose kindness and fierce attitude suggested she would be an interesting friend, Lavender, who seemed always willing to talk, they were all so kind and Sinnett was so thankful they were his friends.

Now, Flowers or Archer were a different story, those feelings were definitely inclined to the romantic. Well, romance was certainly the one way of putting it, since he didn’t quite know how to explain it besides maybe thoughts better left to after three pints of beer or whiskey. Both of them were just, so beautiful.

Flowers was a soft sort of pretty, the way she held herself with such grace and gentleness, her timid tone of voice and delicate touch that could work clockwork like nothing else. He adored the twinkle that’d appear in her eyes when he knocked on her lab door, saying one of his metal fingers had gotten a bit loose, the way her lips would pout while she focused on the intricate cogs and gears in his hand. Her hair, though she clearly tried to tame the wild curls, reminded Sinnett of clouds and smoke, oh she was so lovely.

Then Archer, handsome Archer, he was a sharp sort of beautiful. His strong chin and bright eyes to match with that cunning, knowing smirk of his was nearly intimidating, Sinnett found it alluring. The way his hair stuck up behind his goggles like a macaw’s feathers, the way he always tried to make Sinnett laugh when they were tuning up his arm, the odd look he’d get on his face when things were serious, all of it contributed to Sinnett’s fancy.

Both of them were so kind to him, and so beautiful, Sinnett found himself thinking about them in the most embarrassing fashions that made his face turn bright red. God, if he ever told anyone, the rumors would be horrifically embarrassing.

Sinnett was a mess, to make a long story short. By the end of his first few months as a member of the Society, after gifts and growing close, a compliment from anyone, particularly his favorites, would turn him into a blushing mess behind closed doors. More than once Luckett had found him hiding in their lab, face beet red but covered in ash and soot. The excuses were varying, but Luckett was lackadaisical enough that he didn’t press.

He just got flustered so easily!

And the problem with all these emotions that made dear Sinnett’s heart race was that he didn’t know what to do with them. Most of his fancies and infatuations had crushes of their own and that was just fine, the others faded away to incredibly platonic friendships.

Well, except for one.

He’d spent all morning avoiding the rest of the Society simply because he had a project to work on, soldering new sheets of metal onto the tanks of his flamethrower instead of dealing with any of his bottled affections. Though, to be fair, some of said affections were more platonic than romantic, but they were an odd mix, perhaps not a crush but something close? 

Didn’t matter at this point, he’d wasted the day on work to ignore the particularly fierce tugs at his heartstrings and now the voice from his stomach was far fiercer. It took Luckett tapping him on the shoulder to get him to finally pull himself away from work and go get food. 

Because, you know, drowning yourself in work tends to lead to one forgetting to eat. 

It was, eerily quiet tonight, which was shocking because something or other could usually be heard going on at any one time, be it the sounds of machinery moving behind the walls or a hum from one of the small exhibits in the lobby, there was none of that tonight. Sinnett made note of this as he wandered the uncharacteristically empty halls, looking around curiously for any sign of his friends. But there was nothing, so he walked a little quicker to the kitchen, hoping beyond hope to find Rachel there and ask what the hell was going on.

Darkness had crept into the Society, the lights remained unlit in their sconces along the walls, casting everything into shadow. Sinnett, who found comfort in light and warmth, found anxiety creeping into his psyche as he travelled the dark hallways, rubbing the sleeve of his metal arm just above where flesh changed to machine, an old tic from when that place had been covered with bandages. He picked up his pace then, practically running down the kitchen where the lights were on and a blessed, golden glow filled the space.

He slammed the door shut behind him with more ferocity than intended, backing up and leaning on the counter as the unknown fear began to ebb from his mind finally. The racing of his heart slowed again to a steady, calming beat and he rubbed his eyes. What had he been so afraid of?

A hand placed itself on his shoulder and Sinnett shrieked, whirling around with both hands raised defensively. 

To his surprise, Doctor Jekyll did the same, backing up and exclaiming: “I meant no harm! I just wanted to ask if you were alright.” Sinnett swallowed hard, slowly relaxing, for some reason not at all confused that Jekyll was downstairs in the kitchen, “Yeah I, I’m fine. Just, where is everyone? I, my imagination was getting ahead of me, I thought something was wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” the doctor said, smiling and relaxing as well. “In fact, I was coming to find you.” 

Sinnett felt his face heat up a little bit, “Really? You were looking for me?” 

Jekyll nodded, wearing that oh-so charming smile of his, “I wanted to talk to you about something personal to me.” He was wearing only a vest and shirtsleeves, the collar loose and sleeves rolled clumsily up to the elbows. Just the top of his collarbone could be seen, but understand that in the Victorian-ish Era, just a wee bit of collarbone was more than a little scandalous.

“Something hasn’t gone wrong right? And I should think you’d go to Doctor Lanyon with something like that,” Sinnett said, praying hope beyond hope his face wasn’t turning scarlet and he wasn’t staring.

Jekyll stepped up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, saying something or other about this being about Sinnett, but the pyrologist was focusing on not letting himself overheat. His eyes wandered over Jekyll’s face, lingered on his mouth, parted in that charming smile that could change tides. God did this man realize how bloody attractive he was?

And suddenly he was leaning closer, too close for a friendly conversation, and Sinnett’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest. His eyes shut as Jekyll leaned even closer, their lips barely an inch apart and-

“Oi Sinnett! Sleeping on the job again?” called a voice. 

Sinnett sat bolt upright at his desk, goggles falling eskew onto his face, heart still racing from the vivid near encounter within the realm of dreams. Of course, of course it had been a dream, how else would the Society of Arcane Sciences been so quiet? He rubbed at his eyes tiredly and looked towards the voice, spying Luckett strolling into the lab, a box of various parts in his arms and a wide smile on his face. “Must’ve been one hell of a dream, you look as if someone you fancy just asked you for a drink.”

“I, could use a drink,” he countered, pulling his goggles down so they hung around his neck and running his hand through his hair. There was still that tint of embarrassment in his cheeks and he could feel his heart racing in his chest a mile a minute.

Yes, that was the crush that hadn’t faded in the slightest since its conception, and by far the one that was the least attainable. Jekyll was a man of status, a doctor, and a  _ man  _ for Heaven’s sake, and Sinnett was a glorified pyromaniac with a hand of clockwork. What did he have to offer Jekyll in the slightest? Hadn’t he caused enough trouble as it was?

It was only three days since he’d last set something on fire after all, new record…

“Er, Anthony, you alright lad? You look, dizzy,” Luckett said, setting his now half emptied box of gadgets on the desk beside where Sinnett had taken his little nap. The pyrologist sighed, “I’m fine, just, think I need some air. And food, for that matter, haven’t eaten since two.”

“Well it’s almost up to ten now, you better go ‘fore Rachel puts the remaining soup away.”

“She made soup? And you didn’t wake me?” he asked, sounding mockingly offended as he stood from the desk, gathering some papers in a pile and setting his pen neatly atop the stack. He chuckled and gave Luckett a little wave as he turned to leave, “Don’t touch my stuff.”

“I never do Anthony!” was the response.

For the second time in as many hours, or so it felt, Sinnett wandered out of the lab into the halls of the Society, aiming for the kitchen. 

He passed Griffin and Archer on the way downstairs, noting how happy they seemed to be while chatting with one another, arms folded on the banister, nearly touching but not quite. In the lobby, watching a small clockwork butterfly flutter in circles, were Lavender and Flowers, who seemed to be enjoying one another’s company greatly. Helsby’s booming laugh echoed from above and a look revealed him and Mosley laughing about something on a floor above, all smiles. 

Sinnett’s heart, though it ached for something, felt a little lighter as he passed these happy friends of his. Lavender caught his arm as he passed them, asking if he was coming out with them tonight for drinks, and with a wide smile he agreed. 

After he got something proper to eat of course. 

With a smile, he strode towards the kitchen and nearly skipped past Doctor Jekyll’s office doors, but there he paused. He tilted an ear and heard laughter, Jekyll’s laughter and the familiar voice of Doctor Lanyon telling some story in an overly pretentious and dramatic tone. Sinnett chuckled too as he turned and continued towards the kitchen, hands in his pockets, heart singing a new song.

Yes he would pine, and yes it would ache, but one must pause to reflect on what they’d been gifted. He had friends aplenty, a home that care for him, and who knows? Maybe someone else had a crush on him and their heart ached like his. But most of all, his friends were all  _ happy. _

They knew they were loved, felt love and shared it with those that were the objects of their affections without fear, regardless of gender. The topic of gender alone usually made Sinnett ashamed of his fancies, but here, at the Society, it seemed okay. And it was okay to not be the one in the spotlight, to watch his crushes fall in love and be loved, it really was okay.

It was good to see them happy.

And it, actually, was enough for his ticking clockwork heart.

Or so he thought.


	5. Unattainable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sinnett seeks romantic advice and realizes that the one he's fallen for will never feel the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is where I started realizing that the Ship wasn’t going to work. Bouncing off of chapter four, I tried to see what I could do to make it hurt my fav a little less. A few days after starting it I signed up for AO3 and began the wait which was the longest two weeks i’ve had all year.

“Flowers? Have you ever had a crush?” asked Sinnett, sitting opposite her on a desk, watching her work on his clockwork hand. It was disconnected from his elbow, though the mechanism attached to his body still clicked and twitched as he tried to move his hand that should be there. He was watching this mechanism curiously, eyes glancing up occasionally to Ms. Flowers.

She considered his question a moment, “I have, but it has been quite some time since then.” It was clear she wasn’t taking the question seriously, but to be fair her current task was more than enough of a distraction. The fine gears and clockwork within Sinnett’s mechanical hand needed both winding and fine tuning after coming loose in a recent scuffle. While they weren’t as small or delicate as Flowers’ insects, they needed a steady hand and finely crafted implements. “Why do you ask?”

“Just, some rumors I’ve heard,” he answered, resting his head on his good hand, watching her work.

“Which ones? Some are more true than others you know,” Flowers teased, glancing up at him. He shrugged, “Some things about Archer and Griffin, Hyde’s most recent escapades, you know.”

She hummed in response, turning a small crank and winding up a small spring until it clicked into place. Sinnett sighed, looking towards the door of her warmly lit lab, checking casually if someone were listening in. “Sinnett? Do you ask because you yourself have feelings for someone?” 

He felt his face get a little rosy and prayed it wasn’t noticeable. “Well, old feelings, but present nonetheless. They’ll never amount to more than an embarrassment.”

Flowers too glanced at the door, then at Sinnett, “I won’t tell, who?”

Sinnett debated on being honest with her, so he decided to tell the partial truth. “Someone I met recently, just before coming to the Society. Very nice, charming, a uh, a man, unfortunately.”

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you were talking about Doctor Jekyll,” Flowers said, giggling and covering her mouth with a gloved hand. Sinnett prayed his face didn’t give him away, “Yes well, if that  _ were  _ the case, he’d still be completely unattainable.”

“What, is the object of your affections someone of status?” Flowers asked, now sounding curious. He nodded and sighed heavily, “And a man, which makes it all the more sinful.”

“Oh it’s far from sinful Anthony, merely a bit odd, but there’s nothing wrong with it,” she said, gesturing with her tool. Sinnett buried his face in his folded arm and a half, “I know but, it just feels so, impossible! There are others he cares about, I’m certain he’ll never even notice me!”

He looked up as Flower’s placed a gentle hand on his head, smiling softly. “Sinnett, talk like that will mean that’s certainly going to happen. If you don’t have hope for it, you’ll never even have a chance!”

“I’m an arsonist pyromaniac with a clockwork hand, what’ve I got to offer someone like Jekyll or Lanyon?”

“You’re generous, honest, kind, and wonderful to talk to,” Flowers said, ruffling his hair as he sat up, smiling a little and blushing from the compliment. She replaced the panels on the hand and clicked the clockwork back together. A quick manual test of the mechanisms and she helped Sinnett fit it back onto his elbow, watching with a proud smile as he tested it again, hand opening and closing smoothly once more.

He shot Flowers a fingergun, “Thank you Sophie, I owe you one.”

“No you don’t, you owe it to yourself to be more careful,” she answered, putting a hand over his. “This is the second time I’ve had to tune you up this month, keep at it and you might permanently break something!” Sinnett wilted a bit and she pat his hand reassuringly, taking it gently into her own. “Please be careful, you and Luckett worry the rest of us silly!”

“I’m very careful, Ms. Flowers,” he said, grinning and starting to leave. Yet, she continued to hold his hand. “Anthony…”

“Yes?”

“This, crush of yours, I’m sure you’ll tell him someday, you will find love,” Flowers said softly, smiling. She pat his hand again and let go, turning to go back to her proper work. Sinnett blinked once and smiled, “Thank you Flowers.”

~

“I do believe this is the third time you’ve set the lab dangerously on fire this month,” Doctor Jekyll said, frowning, his arms folded and posture stiff. Sinnett and Luckett shared a glance, noting how both of their faces and shoulders were positively  _ covered _ in soot and ash, a small fire still smoldering on the edge of Luckett’s collar. “You two better have a solid explanation as to why in the world you thought it would even be safe to assemble a fire bomb like that in the Society.”

“I thought I had it contained!” Sinnett said in defense, “Phlogiston reacts to air and I had it sealed in a vacuum sir! It shouldn’t have burst!”

“I blame myself for the explosion,” Luckett added, glancing at the smoke filled and slightly singed lab around them. “The glass didn’t hold as well as I had hoped and the phlogiston didn’t mix well with the black powder.”

“Black, black powder?” Jekyll repeated, rubbing his eyes before glaring at them. The dark circles under his eyes seemed even darker than before. Sinnett rubbed hand on the back of his neck, hunching his shoulders, Luckett guiltily avoided his gaze. It felt bad to have Sinnett’s favorite person mad at him. 

Both of them mumbled an apology and Jekyll sighed heavily.

“You two aren’t allowed to request new materials until you A, repair the lab, and B, prove you can be trusted not to blow everything up,” Jekyll said, sounding like an irritated parent. He fought down a yawn and Sinnett asked: “Sir, are you alright?”

“I’m, just a little tired,” he answered, rubbing his eyes. He turned and started to leave, “You two start tidying this, mess up and I’ll-” he swooned suddenly, leaning heavily on the doorframe of the lab. Sinnett gasped and ran over, compelled to help the doctor, taking Jekyll by the shoulders and helping him steady.

“Sir? What was that?” he asked, worried, glancing over his shoulder to see Luckett moving a little closer. Jekyll stood straighter, took a deep breath and said: “It’s nothing, honestly, I just need-” and his eyes rolled. 

Sinnett barely managed to catch him as he fell forward, and the pyrologist was surprised to find him so light and wirey. His chest was also surprisingly firm, not that that was something Sinnett had considered before or thought about. He helped Jekyll to steady and said: “Sir, I don’t mean to be rude, but, I think you need rest, something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jekyll protested, though he sounded dizzy and that made worry pluck at Sinnett’s heartstrings again.

“I’m, not going to take your word for that and take you to your room,” Sinnett said, looping Jekyll’s arm over his shoulders and keeping him on his feet. Jekyll started to protest but went silent, choosing instead to just lean on Sinnett, resigning himself to being partially carried. Sinnett tried not to get too flustered at the touch as he sent Luckett and apologetic glance and headed out into the Society.

It was clear to the others that Jekyll, and by a lesser extent Sinnett, were not open to talking at the moment. There were a few questions about what had happened, considering SInnett looked like a chimney brush and Jekyll was practically asleep on his shoulder, to which the answer was: “Our esteemed leader passed out because he hasn’t been sleeping again.”

Sinnett could feel Jekyll’s heartbeat against his side as he carried the spindly doctor along, his own heart racing. This was probably the closest he’d ever been to doctor Jekyll, and he couldn’t help but notice how dark the circles under his eyes seemed, how mussed his hair and pale his cheeks. How long had hee been awake?

Jekyll’s room was off of his office, a small little room with a tiny bed and a small chest, not meant to be lived in properly as Jekyll had his own house where he lived. The rumor was this was where Hyde stayed some nights and where the two of them, danced. The point was, it was a place where Jekyll wouldn’t mind sleeping, not while he was like this anyway. 

Sinnett did his best to dust his hands free of soot before pulling back the blanket and sitting Jekyll on the bed.

“No, I need to, I have work to do,” he mumbled in protest, trying to stand. Gently, Sinnett pushed him back down, and though he was suddenly flustered of being in the doctor’s not-quite bedroom, he said: “No sir, you’re dizzy, stumbling, and I’ve never seen you look more tired. Please, just rest awhile, for your sake.” 

Jekyll blinked at him, brow furrowed sleepily, “I, you’re so kind Anthony.” Sinnett blushed brighter, “Thank you sir, now will you sleep a while?”

He nodded in resignation and rubbed his eyes, falling back on the bed with a sigh. “I feel ashamed you had to carry me here, Anthony.” He lay on the bed without pulling up the covers and visibly relaxed, lovely red eyes fluttering shut. 

Sinnett felt awkward for standing there, unsure what to do, but not wanting to leave yet. So he made himself useful, pulling up the blanket to Henry’s shoulders and drawing the curtains over the small window. As he passed the bed to leave, Jekyll reached out and caught his hand, his real one, and said: “Thank you.” Before dropping it and drifting off.

Sinnett’s cheeks felt hot and he hurried out of the room, shutting the door gently behind. His heart hammered in his chest and he felt a dumb smile coming onto his face that he had to cover with his hand. That should’ve been nothing, he’d wanted to move on from this, yet the idea he’d helped Jekyll and Henry had  _ held his hand  _ for a moment, why, that was wonderful. He let out a lovestruck sigh, clinging to the moment, his human hand clutching his shirt collar, tingling where he’d been touched.

He’d held his hand! Pulled on it, as if not wanting him to leave! And the idea of being in that bed beside him, warm under a blanket, peaceful and maybe, relaxed for once. Gentle touches like that, holding him like he had, why couldn’t he have more of that?

Ah yes, because he was a pyromaniac with less than a dime to his name and a missing hand. What could he give to Jekyll besides trouble? 

Sinnett sighed heavily, holding his shirt and praying his heart would be silent. The flutter of romance, well, it didn’t feel good anymore.

He needed to move on.

~

Admittedly, this whole conversation was kind of his fault, he had been moping around in the parlor room at about evening, perfect spotting zone for his wonderful friends.

“I think he’s got a crush!” said Archer in a whisper that was only the littlest bit too loud to Griffin, who he was sharing a desk with. “Well, no one  _ told _ me, but you can just tell!” Sinnett, who’d been trying to work on his notebook, found his right leg bouncing anxiously as he tried not to listen and focus on his calculations.

“You can’t think everyone’s who’s got the morbs is having romantic issues like you,” Griffin countered in a hiss, glancing at Sinnett, who felt his ears get hot. “Keep your bloody voice down before you piss him off.” Sinnett’s leg began to bounce faster, it became hard to make it stop.

He could hear them speaking in lower voices and grit his teeth, slamming his notebook together and standing abruptly. There was a sharp feeling in his chest and his throat, a mix of anger and utter embarrassment, how  _ dare  _ they talk about him like that! Of course he wasn’t one to talk, having spread and listened to rumors before despite how they hurt the others, it still stung to be the source of such talk!

It hurt even worse because it dragged the feelings he’d been trying to smother to the surface where they burned again. That want, that soul aching want to make Jekyll smile and laugh, to make sure he felt loved and wanted, burned worse than anything.

Sinnett hoped his storming to the door was enough to tell Archer and Griffin to shut the hell up and stay shut up. As he pulled open the door of the parlor though, he ran into Hyde, who grinned devilishly. He looked prepared for a night out, and tipped his hat to Sinnett. “Evenin’ Sinnett, have you seen my cape? Seem to have misplaced it after spending the evening with-”

He shoved past Hyde and into the corridor, not even bothering to answer. And then there was that short, blonde little prick who had the audacity to rub it into everyone’s noses that he was sleeping with Jekyll. It wasn’t that Sinnett was jealous of that in particular, he had no want for sex, but it was the idea that Hyde got to see a side of Jekyll no one else did that he was jealous of.

Did he make Henry smile? Probably not, considering the Doctor so often spoke of him with disdain. But what made him so special he got to stay around?

No, no it wasn’t worth it to keep such anger festering in his chest, that kind of anger lead to fire, a want to burn things, that dangerous desire that’d lead him to pyrology in the first place. The idea of Hyde’s bushy, blonde mane, so flamma- NO!

Sinnett stopped walking, dragging his hands down his face to snap himself out of the downward spiral he could already feel himself circling into, endless and miserable. He had to let go, accept it, just move on.

But it was so hard when every little thing Jekyll did made his heart flutter! From the way he’d flick his hair out of his eye when he needed to see, from the way his lips would draw up in front when he spoke or smiled, the little flourishes he’d do with his hands when speaking, that gentle mentor tone of voice he’d use when giving advice, all of it was so nice. How could he move on from this when every little thing the doctor did reminded Sinnett how smitten he was? How could he move on when what people said kept dredging it back to the surface?

He sighed heavily and leaned against the railing, looking out at the Society’s lobby, at Tweedy’s sparking devices, at the faintly glowing leviathan skeleton under the glass roof where rain pattered softly. How fitting, somber weather for a somber mood and evening.

Anthony rotated so he leaned against a pillar and looked to the notebook in his hand. Slowly, he opened it and began to flip through the pages, scanning old blueprints, old sketches, and old doodles. Most of the doodles were of fire, of hands and scars on friends, but one of the pages was filled with one face. He’d spent a whole day drawing it, trying desperately to capture that fire that seemed to come from him, that warmth, and it hadn’t quite come out right. 

It was still a lovely drawing, and probably the closest Sinnett would get to the real thing.

“Testy tonight aren’t we?” teased a voice. Sinnett snapped his notebook shut and looked up to glare daggers at a smug looking Hyde, standing on his toes to be eye-to-eye with him. “You stormed off in a bit of a huff, didn’t even say hello to little ol’ me. Griffin and Archer looked rather guilty back there, give me the details! What happened huh?”

“Nothing happened Hyde, bugger off,” Sinnett snapped, leaning forward and glaring at him.

“They told me something about a crush, was that why you ran off in such a huff?” he teased, smirking and putting a hand to his chin in thought. “Or did they strike a nerve with the whole arson thing?”

“I’m not an arsonist and my love life is none of your business.” Hyde’s smile became a bit sultry and he leaned forward, “I see, you’re just touchy. Let me guess, it’s Archer? Or, perhaps Flowers? You do spend so much time with them.” As he spoke, he tapped Sinnett’s chest and made the taller man stiffen, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “Or, better yet, is it me?”

“You selfish arse,” Sinnett snarled, mouth twisting into a scowl. Why didn’t he just leave? Was it because he wanted Hyde to say something especially rude so he had a reason to punch the prick’s lights out? Or was it because he really wanted to tell someone? 

Whatever it was, Hyde’s grin only got wider and he moved even closer, pressing Sinnett against the railing behind them. The void of the second story drop to the ground below sent vertigo into Sinnett’s gut, but he couldn’t look away from Hyde’s smug green eyes. “Or is it worse than that, it’s our dear doctor?”

“Shut up.”

“Am I right?”

“I said, shut  _ up. _ ” Anyone else would be fighting back, shoving him back, but Sinnett wasn’t a fighter on his own. What’s more, he saw a figure out of the corner of his eye, they had company, what would Henry think if he went around punching people?

Hyde pouted jokingly, “I am right, aren’t I? And you just can’t help yourself thinking about him huh? About his body and eyes.” Sinnett looked away, his face burning, something pricking at his eyes. “About kissing him.”

“You’re a bastard Hyde.” The fluttery feeling that had filled his chest before now gripped Sinnett’s throat, it burned now, anger and jealousy, that want to actually burn something.

To burn  _ Hyde. _

“I know darling, believe me, I know.” Hyde’s grin was insufferable, in fact, everything about him was insufferable!

“And what makes you so special that you get to know all of that?” Sinnett snapped suddenly, surprising himself and Hyde. He leaned forward, “What makes you so bloody unique that he can even stomach being around you?”

“That’s the thing Anthony, he despises me,” Hyde purred, his face barely three inches from Sinnett’s, drawn up in that stupid and smug grin. “But I can show you what we do, if you want so desperately to know what makes Henry scream.”

That made Sinnett’s stomach churn, that was the last thing he wanted! Sinnett’s glare darkened, but he didn’t draw back, to infuriated for rational action. Walking away meant showing Hyde he was right, remaining meant the same, what the hell was he to do? And knowing Hyde, the secret would be out in minutes and who knows how long it’d take to reach Jekyll’s ears. All he could do was stay and maybe come up with a lie that it was someone else.

Better yet, maybe he could knock out a few of Hyde’s pearly whites.

Apparently his silence meant he wanted to know whatever secret Hyde had to give, because the prick got even closer, as if he were going to share a secret. And suddenly he grabbed Sinnett’s shirt and pulled him into a kiss, body far too close and the kiss far too passionate.

Alarm bells began screaming in Sinnett’s mind and he shoved the shorter man back with full strength, his notebook dropping to the ground pages first. He shouted something at Hyde that he wouldn’t remember later, snatched up the notebook and made a break for his room at a full sprint. Whoever had been watching had to dodge out of the way as he made a beeline up the stairs and, surprisingly quietly, darted into his room. 

No, no no no NO! Everything about that kiss had been wrong and still made Sinnett’s stomach turn. He felt uncomfortable, infuriated, and more frustrated than he had been before! What sort of prick kisses a man out of nowhere after making it clear he loved another!? Hyde evidently, the selfish blonde arse!

He may have been handsome but that counted towards nothing! Had Sinnett stayed a second later he might’ve thrown a punch, what would Jekyll had thought of him if he had? How long before he got kicked out of the Society for being a troublemaker?

Sinnett threw the lock on his door, stumbling back and dropping hard onto his bed, frantically flipping open his book to check for the damage. None of the pages were badly bent, the drawing of Jekyll had been spared, but looking at it now only made him more angry. He felt the tears that had pricked at his eyes before begin to bubble up and he snapped the book shut before tossing it aside.

God damn Edward Hyde, how long before everyone knew? Who the hell had seen? Did Hyde figure out by how much Sinnett had blushed? 

He put his face in his hand, his metal one reaching back and grabbing his hair, pulling and scratching at the scalp as his throat felt tight. So close to tears, but not from sorrow, from utter sudden panic that his affections would be revealed. Why was he so scared? Why was he so frantic about this? Why had Hyde’s kiss set him off so much?

If any of this got out, spread like rumors always,  _ always  _ did in the Society, there would be even less chance to so much as speak with Jekyll! He wouldn’t be able to work with Jekyll probably ever again without knowing that he  _ knew  _ and that it definitely was never going to happen and-

Just stop. 

Sinnett forced himself to sit up, to unclench his hands, to breathe deeply that his racing heart would slow and that his hand would stop shaking.

There was no way out of this, and Hyde had made his problem so much worse.

What the hell was he going to do?

How could he move on when everything seemed determined to bring it back?

~

Sinnett woke the next morning, more exhausted than he had been the night before when he had been so emotionally exhausted he’d been numb by the end of the night, to someone knocking at his door. Slowly he sat up in bed, a heavy feeling settling into his chest again as he stretched. He debated whether it was worth putting on his arm to answer the door, then ultimately decided he didn’t care enough.

So he clumsily pulled on a nightrobe and went to the door, pulling it open and squinting into the light of day. To his surprise, Doctor Jekyll was outside, dark shadows under his eyes once again.

“Good morning doctor, I-”

“I’m here to apologize.”

“Pardon?”

Jekyll sighed and folded his arms, looking incredibly ashamed as he said: “I was told what Hyde did last night, and I’d just like to apologize for what he did. Not only was it incredibly rude, I can’t imagine how embarrassing it was.”

Sinnett stumbled for words, “I, did, what were you told?”

“I was told that he kissed you after insisting you had a crush on me,” Jekyll answered, folding his hands and speaking in a warm, kind voice. Despite how tired Sinnett was, that voice seemed to lift his spirits a bit. “I can’t imagine how humiliating it is to be confronted about something about it.”

“It’s, it’s nothing, water under the bridge.” A lie, a bitter lie, how many more lies would he tell? He should’ve just punched Hyde, instead of letting the arse think he could get away with it.

“I was told you ran off and locked yourself in your room, are you certain you’re alright?” Was that concern in the doctor’s voice? Or was Sinnett imagining things? 

He hesitated before answering, once again faced with the desire to spill his guts and be honest, his tongue tied in a knot. But being honest was telling himself it’d never happen, because it wasn’t going to. The closest thing he’d get would be this paternal concern, nothing more. So he smiled and said: “I’m fine, really. I just got, overwhelmed, I’m sure you know the feeling.”

“I do. And, my door is open if you need to talk,” Jekyll insisted.

“Jekyll, Henry, really, I’m alright.” Sinnett tried to make a joke, “The next time Hyde tries that though, I’m going to punch him.”

“Punch him a second time for me, would you?” Jekyll added, laughing. Such a pretty laugh, if only they could hear it more often. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

“Starting early today?”

“Lots of paperwork.”

“Good luck.”

Sinnett’s heart ached as Jekyll turned and walked off, his smile dropped and he sighed. No chance of that ever happening, he was fooling himself at this point. The Society, Lanyon, Hyde, and every single other Lodger, Jekyll didn’t have the time or heart for him.

He’d have to settle with love from a distance, he supposed, for it was unattainable otherwise. But, friendship perhaps?

Maybe.

He had to move past this ache first, before it tore him in pieces.


	6. Catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone knows how to cope the right way, Sinnett clearly does not. Luckett talks some sense into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this to be the wrapping up for this whole mess which, three days before I got my account, I realized made a perfect fic if you wrapped it the right way. I didn’t really know how to end it, but all of it had Sinnett talking to SOMEONE, but that wasn’t enough. I think I got it this time though.

A spark had been snuffed.

That was the simple way of putting it, but if one were to be more accurate, it was more like the spark had been picked up and hidden away where it would burn itself out.

But it wasn’t burning out.

What had before been a source of joy was now a constant source of anxiety, anxiety of being caught, of ruining what remained, and Sinnett felt like he was being crushed under it. He buried himself in his work, day in and day out in his lab, focused entirely on the mysterious chemical he’d invested so much time in. When work was through he’d go out, for drinks with friends usually, anything to drown the absolute  _ humiliation  _ of what had happened.

It kept playing in the back of his mind on a broken, twisted loop. The kiss with Hyde, the talk with Flowers and then with Jekyll after it happened, over and over in his mind’s eye. No one had  asked him about it, but some dark voice said that those glances away from him and whispers behind his back were about what had happened. His recent conversations with Jekyll had been stiff, awkward, was that his fault? Did the doctor know?

Whatever, he just wanted to move past all of this and stop hurting. 

Surprisingly, no one noticed.

Or if they didn’t notice, they didn’t say anything, and somehow that almost made it hurt worse. Maybe Sinnett was just really good at hiding it, hell if he knew or cared right now. 

He started skipping meals to work, because the downtime meant more time to think and stew and be miserable. Anything he could do to keep from being upset was what he chose to do, it ended in many a night with him falling asleep at his desk and being helped or convinced to bed.

It began to show on his face after about a week, the dark circles around his eyes, the way his right hand was never steady any longer, his messy hair and constant yawning. He was beginning to act a bit like Griffin, grumpy, irritable, wanting to be alone, and no one except Hyde knew why!

If he had actually figured it out.

This went on for about two weeks before Luckett, who was the one who so frequently had to shove Sinnett off to bed, put his foot down. He was waiting in the lab one morning when Sinnett walked in, looking as if he’d just bathed, yawning deeply. “Anthony, we need to talk.”

“What’s there to talk about Thomas?” he countered in a flat voice, going to the desk and flipping open his notebook to examine the work from the night before.

“The fact that you seem to be working yourself to death, among other things,” Luckett answered, pushing off from his seat atop a desk and striding over. He shut Sinnett’s notebook and was met with a fierce glare, “I don’t want you babying me Luckett, I can handle myself.”

“I’d be inclined to believe that if you weren’t metaphorically fasting and wasting away,” Luckett said firmly, tapping Sinnett’s notebook for effect. “You think I’m blind? The dark shadows around your eyes make you look like the bloody Phantom! You haven’t been sleeping enough, hardly eating, and working so much I’m afraid you’ll collapse!”

“It’s just until this gloom has passed,” Sinnett insisted, pushing Luckett’s hand away and standing a little straighter. Both of them were rather tall, but of equal height, making the staredown particularly intense. An unstoppable force and an immovable object, but who was which was impossible to tell. 

“Luckett, please, just let me work,” Sinnett said darkly, hands bunched into fists, angered far quicker than usual. Luckett’s response was to fold his arms and square his shoulders, “Not until you tell me what’s got you wound up like this. You keep going and you’re going to burn yourself out.”

“Maybe that’s what I want.”

“Why though?”

“None of your business.”

“You’re my lab partner, and my friend, it  _ is  _ my business to make sure you’re alright,” Luckett said. HIs expression softened and he lowered his shoulders a bit, “Sinnett, please, what’s got you plagued with melancholy, surely I can help!”

“Unless you swear not to say a word to anyone else, and knowing you that’ll be incredibly difficult,” Sinnett snapped, scowling. 

“I swear.” The pyrologist blinked, relaxing suddenly, “Wait what.”

“I can see you’re upset and I promise, not a word will escape my lips unless you tell me it’s alright,” Luckett answered in a dignified voice. “We’re all worried about you, and  _ I _ know you seem to think you don’t deserve it. You can tell me what’s wrong.”

Sinnett swallowed hard, he could feel his human hand shaking as his heart raced. And then suddenly, he felt tears in his eyes, but no he wouldn’t cry. He couldn’t, not here, not now. “I, I- I had feelings for someone.”

“And then Hyde was an arse to ya?” Luckett asked, sounding sympathetic. Sinnett nodded sadly, folding his arms and hunching his shoulders. “I, I shouldn’t be this upset about it, I’ve known for a long time that it was impossible for me to be with this person-”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Sinnett, keeping this secret is clearly hurting you and I swore I wouldn’t say. You must speak your mind before it rots you from the inside out,” Luckett said, voice worried. He reached out and put his hands on Sinnett’s shoulders, “Who is it? Who broke your heart my friend?”

HIs voice caught in his throat, was he really going to say? “It, I, Henry!”

“What? He, but-”

“He doesn’t even know and you can’t tell him!’ Sinnett said frantically, gesturing spastically with his hands. “It’s not even his fault it was Hyde because I realized just how hopeless I am and how stupid it is I’m so infatuated with him when it won’t go anywhere! I still felt like I was doing wrong with that kiss and I don’t even want sex like Hyde thought I did because it grosses me out and I feel  _ broken  _ and I don’t bloody know!” 

His voice rose from frantic confession to angered shouting and his hands beant into claws and grabbed fistfuls of ginger hair in frustration. Tears stung in his eyes, but he didn’t start crying until Luckett grabbed him and pulled him close for a hug. God it was  _ humiliating  _ breaking down like this, but it had only taken one small crack in Sinnett’s armor for the whole damn he’d built to come crumbling down.

“You’re not broken, what in the world told you you were broken?” Luckett asked, pulling back to look Sinnett in the eyes, brow furrowed in worry. The pyrologist scrubbed at his face, but it took a long moment for him to speak.

“I just, there’s so much wrong with me, I can’t even have a proper one night stand, I’m missing my bloody hand, I talk too much sometimes and I set things on fire Thomas!” he exclaimed, grabbing onto Luckett almost desperately. He saw the shocked look on Luckett’s face and wilted even more, “I’m so sorry for giving you this burden, you don’t deserve-”

“Stop that, stop it right now.” He blinked and Luckett’s look became stern. “You talk down on yourself because you can’t let go of your mistake and that’s just the source of all of this! Sinnett, we make mistakes, things happen that we can’t control, including our hearts! It’s alright that you don’t want sex and it doesn’t bloody matter what happened in the past! You’ve atoned for it, done all you can to prove your worth, you are far from broken!”

“Thomas-”

“No, listen to me. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my bombs, you have, without fail, remembered everyone’s birthdays. You listen, you’re honest, and I would feel positively honored if I were the one you were in love with,” Luckett said, his voice warm. “Sinnett,  _ Anthony _ , you’re worth more than you think of yourself, your value has nothing to do with your chances with Jekyll.

“He’s, complicated, and busy keeping all of us out of the jailhouse, the only reason you won’t have his heart is because, right now? No one can, and it’s  _ not your fault. _ “ He lifted Sinnett’s face so they were eyes to eye, “Look at me Anthony, you cannot give up hope because your heart longed for the unattainable. But you must let yourself hurt for it to heal, smothering yourself in phlogiston and steel will do you no good.”

Sinnett stared at him, tears leaking down his cheeks, and a fluttery feeling in his chest. “I, Luckett, where did you learn how to speak like that?”

“I’ve done a lot of reading,” he said, smiling a little. 

Both of them relaxed, but neither let go quite yet. “Now, Anthony, will you promise to get some proper sleep? And food?”

“I, I promise.”

“Good.” Luckett let go of Sinnett’s arms, stepping back a little and giving a smile. “Go get yourself some proper breakfast, and stop worrying about the doctor, okay?”

Sinnett’s heart fluttered at something new and he nodded, “Okay.” Luckett grinned and turned away, striding over to his desk and looking over what sat there, Sinnett found himself clutching at his shirt over his heart. 

Could it be? Was it possible? Those kind words from Luckett, about how much he mattered, about how he couldn’t hold onto the impossible, had it really lifted the gloom from his heart? Was it so simple?

More importantly, was that all it took to make him fall all over again? It was just the start of something, at this point, but no doubt that flutter in his chest was the good kind, and it already felt different from how it had with Jekyll. There was something else with the flutter, was it friendship?

No, something simpler, hope.

Sinnett smiled, still clutching his shirt as he turned to leave. And once outside the lab, he allowed himself to sigh happily, the stress melting from his shoulders. His heart still stung when he thought of everything that had happened, but when he thought of what Luckett had said, of Luckett himself, it sung a new song.


End file.
